Call Out My Name
by Insane Anarchist-aka Allie
Summary: Eva always lived in an idealistic home—until her father hit her. With her life crumbling around her, she can only turn to one person: a mysterious, masked superhero. OC. M for profanity.
1. I

**Summary:** Eva always lived in an idealistic home—until her father hit her. With her life crumbling around her, she can only turn to one person: a mysterious, masked superhero.

**Author****'****s ****Note:** I guess this is something like _Beauty__and__the__Beast_…but not quite. Lol. Dunno. Anyways, I think there's far too few Kenny x OC stories on here, so I'm adding my own! :) Enjoy! Translations are at the end. (I also give credit for the title to the amazing band _Amaranthe_.)

**Pronunciation ****Notes:** Eva Lehtinen = EHY-vuh LEH-tih-nehn, with a voiced h (meaning a breathy h sound) in the first syllable.

As the first bell rang, I pushed through South Park High's double doors, waving and smiling at the friends—and acquaintances—I passed as I went. I sidestepped Eric Cartman's outstretched foot, saying, "Hiya, fatass."

"Screw you, bitch."

A little smirk crossed my face as I left the asshole behind, and finally made it to my locker. It was weird—I'd only been in South Park for four months now, and I was already on my way to the top of the school. In Denver, I hadn't been very popular—most high schools decided popularity on money, and we hadn't been that high in the hierarchy there…but in South Park, things were different. The hierarchy was based on personal merit (for the most part), and I'd managed to become friends with the very top dogs of the school.

My parents were first-generation Finnish immigrants, and they hardly spoke any English at all—I was bilingual, and on my way to becoming trilingual (French being the third language), having been taught English in school, but my Finnish roots still showed. For a start, I had super blonde hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin, and a faint accent to boot. Not to mention my last name was Lehtinen. How much more Finnish could you get?

I spun my combination lock around a few times until it popped open, and was about to grab my stuff for homeroom when someone slammed my locker shut. Leaning against the next door locker was none other than my friend Kenny McCormick. I laughed and shoved him playfully. "Hey, I was using that, huora," I teased.

"What's that mean again?" Kenny asked through his hood, pretending to think.

"What does it sound like?" I snickered, reopening my locker and getting my stuff. Kenny's eyes sparkled with mischief as he linked arms with me, leading me away from my locker and towards homeroom. "It sounds like whore," he acknowledged.

I rolled my eyes. "Täsmälleen," I muttered.

Kenny guided me into the seat next to his, and pulled out a sheet of paper—his US Supreme Court homework, no doubt. "Eva, would you-"

"Give it here," I said resignedly, dragging his scribbly homework over. It had taken me a while to learn to decipher Kenny's chicken scratch, but once I'd gotten it, it was easy. We spent the better part of homeroom going over his answers (read: with me giving him the correct answers) but for the last thirty minutes, we played the dot game. Why? Because it's fun.

Finally, the bell rang, and we went our separate ways—me to chemistry, Kenny to history. I liked chemistry, but none of my really good friends were actually _in_ that class, so it kinda sucked for that reason. The only person I really liked was Butters, but he was always in Cartman's shadow, so that was no good. Still…it was Butters and Cartman or nothing, so I sat beside Butters and began getting my stuff out, ignoring the angry looks Cartman was giving me.

"Uh, h-hey, Eva," stammered Butters, baby blue eyes wide in shock. (Yeah, I never sat next to them.)

"Hej," I said lightly, accidentally letting my accept slip in.

Cartman crossed his arms. "What're you doing here, Viking?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes at me. Viking was just one of his many attempted ways to torment me, but of course it didn't work. I'd heard worse.

"Sitting. What's it look like, fatass?" I asked, rolling my eyes. "What, is it a crime now?"

Butters shifted uncomfortably. "I don't mind you sitting here, Eva," he whispered earnestly, wincing when Cartman looked thunderous.

"Leave him alone, Cartman," I snapped, jumping to Butters' defense.

Silence descended, and thankfully the class began—I settled in for a lecture class when our teacher, Mr. Hendricks, turned the SmartBoard on, and hurried to get out paper for notes. I took notes in Finnish, because it helped me remember the information better—and besides, it kept everyone from stealing my notes.

I was in for one hell of a boring day at school.

When I got home, all I wanted to do was collapse into my bed and pretend that I didn't have to go to school tomorrow, but, of course, my father—my Isä—was drunk. My mother—my Äiti—was scared of him when he was drunk, so she was probably out of the house somewhere—safe. She never seemed to think to warn me, though. Isä's alcoholism was probably runoff from the common Scandinavian winter alcoholism and depression, but it was never dark 24/7 in South Park…so maybe that wasn't such a good excuse. Either way, I wasn't in the mood to deal with the runkkari, so I tried to slip past him—to no avail, of course.

"Where were you?" he slurred, in Finnish, leaning heavily against the doorway to the living room.

I frowned at him. "At school," I answered shortly. Maybe he'd leave me alone…

Isä looked at me through cloudy eyes. "At…school? Why?"

"To learn," I muttered, brushing past him. Unfortunately, his fingers closed around my wrist, and he pulled me back. "Look at me when you're talking to me!" Isä demanded, glaring furiously at me. I jerked my hand away and took a step backwards, cold fear clenching my heart. Maybe Äiti had a reason to be scared of him…

"Isä, you're humalassa," I chided softly, attempting to reason with him. "You've had too much to drink. Why don't you go lie down?"

"Don't tell me what to do!" he cried, face growing angrier by the second.

I held my hands up in clear surrender. "I'm not, I swear," I assured him, my tone as gentle as I could make it. It was tough, considering how much I wanted to smack him upside the head for getting so drunk.

"Don't lie, Eva!" Isä snarled, advancing on me.

Well and truly scared, I turned on my heel and sprinted upstairs and into my room. Isä was faster, though, and caught me just by the door. I didn't know what he was going to do, so I screamed and thrashed about, struggling as best I could—but he was much stronger than me. Suddenly, I felt a horrible stinging sensation across my face.

Isä had hit me.

Tears welled in my eyes, but he wasn't finished—he pushed me hard to the ground, and kicked me in the side. I swore I felt something crack. Sobbing quietly, I waited for the next blow: it was a swift punch to the eye.

Finally, several hits later, Isä stumbled drunkenly from my room, slamming and locking the door behind him.

A loud sob escaped my throat, and I clamped my hands over my mouth lest he hear me. Isä had _never_ hit me before—oh, sure, he'd given spankings when I was misbehaving as a child, but to outright beat me up? Never! That…that just wasn't my Isä!

"But it was," I whispered, curling into the fetal position and letting myself cry my eyes out.

_Bang!_

I let out a little shriek at the strange noise, and spun to face the origin—my window had somehow come open. Trembling and sore in more places than I cared to think about, I got to my feet and moved to close it.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."

This time, I didn't have the energy to scream—I just whirled around, feeling my injured leg give out underneath me as I did so. The mysterious figure cloaked in black (who had decided to come into my bedroom without an invitation, apparently) was quick to step forward and steady me, helping me silently to my bed.

"Who—who are you?" I asked him, switching to English to follow his example.

He regarded me for a moment, and I did the same—he was some kind of superhero, apparently, judging by the hood and mask over his face, the black cloak, the slate-grey spandex outfit, and the…underwear on the outside? Strange. He also had a neon green question mark on a spring sitting atop his head. By his height and appearance, I figured he must be around my age.

"I'm Mysterion," he said, in that strange, gravelly voice of his.

I shifted uncomfortably—my injuries were beginning to ache. "Why are you here?"

He averted his gaze—he had the most brilliant blue eyes, and I was sure I'd seen them somewhere. "I had intended to rescue you from your father, but…I was held up on the way, and arrived too late."

Unprepared, I winced at the unwelcome reminder. Mysterion looked back at me, a frown creasing his face. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his tone considerably gentler. "Believe me, he will never lay another hand on you, Eva. I swear it." The promise was solemn but passionate, and I found that I _did_ believe him—Mysterion, my would-be savior. I didn't know why, but he seemed honest, trustworthy. I liked him.

"Thank you," I breathed. I curled my legs underneath me, grimacing at the pain the movement brought on. "H-he usually doesn't do that, you know," I said, feeling the inexplicable need to defend him.

Mysterion scowled. "Once is more than enough," he said sharply.

He was being very defensive about the—the hitting thing, and I wondered something. "Mysterion…did your parents ever abuse you?" I asked softly, timidly. I was afraid he would get mad at me—but I couldn't help but ask. It was the only possible explanation for him freaking out so much about one time. That comment, once is more than enough…it implied so much to me.

The superhero's face grew taut, his eyes hardening before me. "Why would you think that?" he asked tightly.

Pity welling in me, I beckoned for him to come sit next to me. With a little hesitation, he did so, looking more than a little awkward. "You seem very defensive about—abuse," I explained gently. "And your reaction to me asking pretty much proved it." Unsure of myself, I hung my head and looked away. "You can tell me. It's not like I could go rat on you without telling about what my Isä did too, and I—I could never do that."

Mysterion touched my shoulder lightly, then squeezed for reassurance. "I—I was abused by my parents, when I was younger," he admitted finally, voice rough from more than just him disguising it. "But once I became Mysterion, I was able to make them stop."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, reaching out to take his hand, but losing the courage and letting my own hand fall into my lap. With a faint smile, Mysterion pulled me into a tight embrace, holding me close while still being cautious of my injuries. I leaned against his shoulder, shutting my eyes. It was as if…as if we were taking comfort from each other, because we both understood what it was to be hit by a parent—by the person who's supposed to love you most in the world.

"It's going to be all right, Eva," Mysterion told me quietly as he released me, rising to his feet.

Panic suddenly overwhelmed me—I reached out and grabbed his gloved hand, pulling him back towards me. "W-will I see you again?" I asked urgently.

Smiling, Mysterion brushed a stray piece of pale-blonde hair out of my face. "Yes. At school."

I was so taken aback by his statement that I was powerless to stop him when he detached himself from me and slipped noiselessly out the window. At school? Did that mean… "I go to school with Mysterion," I whispered, shaking my head. Well, those electric-blue eyes _had_ seemed familiar…maybe I could figure it out from there? Probably not, though, because if all it took was figuring out his eye color, other people would've figured it out—and if he had a true secret identity, then it obviously wasn't that easy.

But…who _was_ he? Who was that super-sweet guy who ran around at night helping people? I wanted to know, almost more than anything. I wanted to get to thank him properly, to befriend him and let him know that he'd given me hope—hope that things would be okay again, even after what my Isä did.

The next morning, I woke up stiff and sore, with visible bruises everywhere. The house was silent, so I figured Isä was sleeping off the alcohol. Quiet as a mouse, I grabbed my clothes, snuck into the bathroom, and locked the door behind me.

I dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with _Nightwish_ (my favorite band) printed on it, before setting to fix my makeup. A hoodie would cover the markings on my arms, but the black eye and assorted other bruises on my neck and face wouldn't hide easy. I worked for almost thirty minutes with foundation and concealer, covering the bruises and making them look just about invisible. To balance things out, I added a little blush, lipgloss, and mascara—and then decided I wasn't going to look any less injured. With a sigh, I crept out of the bathroom and hurried downstairs, snatching my laptop case and backpack off the kitchen table and darting out the door as fast as possible. I really didn't feel like dealing with Isä that morning.

I walked to school every morning, even in the bitter cold, but that morning I'd forgotten my winter coat—so I was reduced to a shivering mess before I'd even gone two blocks.

Fifteen minutes into my walk—about halfway to school—someone started driving alongside me. "Need a lift, Eva?" asked a smirking Kyle Broflovski, leaning out the window of his car. He was one of my closest friends, but even though our paths crossed most mornings, I felt I was a little too out of the way to justify asking him for rides.

I smiled in relief, nodding. Kyle stopped the car, and I hurried to get into the passenger seat. "Shit, it's freezing out there," I muttered, turning up the heat without asking.

"You know, I _could_ give you rides to school," Kyle offered, pulling away from the curb.

I shook my head. "Nah, it's all right. I'm not exactly on your way, anyway," I said, holding my hands in front of the heater. Kyle's parents had bought him a nice new car for his sixteenth birthday, and the heater—and AC—was _incredible_.

Kyle rolled his eyes at my stubbornness. "I just don't want my friend freezing, that's all," he muttered.

"I won't freeze," I assured him.

"Oh yeah? Well, this winter's supposed to be the coldest since 80-something. If it gets too cold, I'm getting you anyway," Kyle told me firmly, though he was smiling.

I was surprised, but pleasantly. "Kiitos, Kyle," I said, beaming back at him.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, "You spoke in Finnish again, Eva," he said, laughing.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. I meant thanks," I clarified, facepalming. "But hey, Finnish sounds way cooler than English—we get to roll our _r_s."

We bantered back and forth about languages—Finnish versus Hebrew versus English—until Kyle pulled into the parking lot. Even once we were out of the car and heading inside, we were still discussing the merits of the three languages, though by then we were onto origins and enjoying ourselves thoroughly. Kyle was the friend I could always count on for intelligent conversation.

"What the hell are you two talking about?" asked Kenny as he sidled up, orange hood pulled over his head and drawn tight—he'd apparently done the same thing as a kid, always muffling his voice inside a bright orange parka.

I grinned. "Languages."

"Nerds," Kenny shot back, though it was all in good fun.

At that moment, Stan Marsh—Kyle's best friend since forever—walked up, waving to us. "Hey, guys," he greeted.

"Hej, Stan," I said brightly. "How're things with you and Wendy?"

It was always the right question with Stan—unless they were in one of their "off" periods, that is—and this time, I was rewarded with a dreamy smile. "Great," he murmured.

Kenny snickered and made gagging noises, prompting Stan to jokingly punch his shoulder. It was a well-known fact that Stan was head over heels in love with Wendy, and vice versa—they fought like crazy sometimes, but always managed to get back together in the end. Now that was real dedication, in my books.

"Guys! Guys, you'll never believe what I just heard!" screamed none other than Cartman, running up to us.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "What is it _now_, fatass?" he groaned.

Too distracted by his _breaking__news_, Cartman didn't even bother to come up with some angry retort. "Apparently, they're requiring all seniors to take _sex__ed_, starting _today_!" he blurted, his words stumbling a little in his haste.

That got even Kyle's attention. "What?" he demanded.

"You've gotta be kidding me," muttered Stan.

"This is bullshit," growled Kenny.

I nodded my assent. "Didn't we take sex ed last year?" I asked, rolling my eyes. "Seriously. Are you sure about this, Cartman? I don't want a fucking false alarm…again." Two weeks ago, Cartman had come to us with the news that Craig Tucker was moving to California—which had proven to be false.

"I'm sure this time. They're gonna announce it in homeroom today!" Cartman insisted.

"If this is true…then this is gonna suck," I complained, crossing my arms. "Yhteensä paskaa." Sex ed was the bane of my existence—because I _always_ started blushing like crazy when anything about sex was mentioned, be it condoms or birth control or whatever. Kenny, perv that he was, loved to exploit that little detail of my personality. It wasn't that sex embarrassed me…it just made me blush. Which should've gone hand in hand, but didn't.

Cartman glared at me. "This is no time to be speaking in tongues, Eva," he said seriously, as if I was possessed or something. "We have a problem here!"

"We can't do anything to stop it, so let's just chill out and see if this is actually true _before_ we start freaking out, okay?" suggested Stan, intelligently stepping in before things got out of hand. I wasn't a combative person naturally…except when it came to Cartman. Plus, if you put me, Cartman, and Kyle in the same place for too long…usually some argument broke out, with Kyle and I screaming our heads off at Cartman for being a runkkari.

No, that isn't a very nice word.

The warning bell rang, and we all dispersed to homeroom—Kenny said something pervy about sex ed and I ducked my head, hoping to hide the redness that I could feel overtaking my cheeks. "Real mature, Kenny," I muttered, though I was grinning.

Laughing, Kenny slung an arm around my shoulders as we entered our homeroom, dropping his arm only once we'd gotten to our table. "I hope Cartman's right about the whole sex ed thing," he said, smirking.

"You would," I groaned. "They're just gonna make us put condoms on bananas and talk about birth control and suggest we practice abstinence. It's not like some kind of in-school porno."

Kenny's bright blue eyes turned very mischievous. "Yeah, but it makes you blush the whole time, so it's worth it," he said, laughing and ruffling my hair when I facepalmed. "Admit it, Eva—you blush at anything sexual."

I huffed. "So what? It doesn't embarrass me! You know that."

"I do," he acknowledged. Suddenly, he began studying my face—I shifted uncomfortably, scared that he'd see evidence of Isä's treatment of me there, although I felt I'd done a pretty good job of hiding it, especially considering that so far Kyle, Stan, and Cartman had all failed to notice. That was a damned good track record—considering how much time Kyle especially had gotten to look at my face.

"Do you…is that a black eye, Eva?" asked Kenny, frowning as he brushed a little hair out of my face, to see better.

I pulled away. "Uh, no," I said, though it came out as more of a question.

Kenny looked sad. "You don't have to lie to me."

"Okay, it is, but…I just klutzed my way into tripping into the table last night. It isn't a big deal, and I didn't want to make a fuss out of it." It was a lame excuse, but I hoped Kenny would buy it—I wasn't up to explaining the truth just yet. Maybe someday I'd come clean to my friends, but…not yet. Definitely not yet.

"Suit yourself," muttered Kenny, clearly hurt as he looked away.

"Kenny…" I began—but I didn't know what to tell him, so I fell silent.

Finally, several long minutes later, Kenny turned back to me. "Eva, I don't know what happened, but…if somebody hurt you, I want you to tell me so I can go kick the shit out of them."

I swallowed nervously. "That's sweet, Kenny, but…it was just me being clumsy."

Kenny turned away again, head at a tilt towards the table—it turned my stomach to see him so upset with me, but…I couldn't tell him. I just couldn't! At least…not here. Not in homeroom, with so many kids around. But maybe…maybe later, I could muster up the courage and explain it. As long as he promised not to hurt my Isä.

"All right, I'll tell you," I whispered. "After school, okay?"

Looking back at me, Kenny made as if to speak—but our homeroom teacher, Ms. Marshall, stood up to take roll, interrupting him. Once she'd sent in attendance, she said, "Now, I want your attention for just a couple more minutes—the school has changed their policies, and all seniors are now required to take two one-hour sex ed classes per week. The first one is today, after lunch, in the auditorium."

I groaned and hung my head—so Cartman had been right. Sex ed _was_ being instated for seniors! Vitun helvetti, this was horrible! Two hours a week of sex ed. Holy shit.

Finally, Ms. Marshall was finished talking to us, and Kenny leaned close to me, his forehead nearly touching mine as he made our conversation considerably more private. "After school," he agreed. "Do you wanna…come over to my place and talk about it? I know it's not the best, but…"

"That sounds great," I assured him, smiling. "Thanks, Kenny. Really."

He smiled softly and took my hand, squeezing it for a moment. "No problem."

In all truth, I was terrified to come clean to Kenny—while it hadn't even been an issue with the only person to know, Mysterion…I hadn't exactly had to _tell_ the superhero. He'd already known. But Kenny had no idea. Well, maybe he had an _idea_, but…he didn't already have the knowledge. I'd have to tell him everything. It was daunting to think about—telling anyone that my Isä had hit me. I didn't like to dwell on that fact anyway, but at the same time, I understood that Kenny was just a concerned friend. If the roles were reversed, I would be pestering and consoling and confronting him until he finally came clean about what had happened. It was something I sort of…expected among my friends—that they would work an answer out of me, especially if it involved physical harm.

Dimly, I wondered if Kenny's parents had ever abused him. I'd known Kenny since sixth grade, but…he'd never shown any signs. I certainly hoped they never had—he didn't deserve it. Hell, nobody did.

I only hoped Kenny wouldn't go after Isä—despite everything, I didn't want to believe my Isä, my loving father, was a bad person. Surely he'd just been drunk and had made a mistake…surely. I knew he loved me, and that he'd never consciously do anything to hurt me. It was a one-time occurrence, never to happen again. When I got back from Kenny's that night, he'd be the same sweet Isä I knew and loved.

**Translations:**

-huora = whore

-täsmälleen = exactly

-hej = hey, hi (lol)

-Isä = father, dad

-Äiti = mother, mom

-humalassa = drunk

-kiitos = thanks

-yhteensä paskaa = total shit

-runkkari = really nasty, insulting name for someone

-vitun helvetti = fucking hell


	2. II

**Summary:** Eva always lived in an idealistic home—until her father hit her. With her life crumbling around her, she can only turn to one person: a mysterious, masked superhero.

**Author****'****s**** Note:** So, hope everyone liked the first chapter—and liked my OC, Eva! I don't speak Finnish (yet) so I'm only using one or two word phrases, but hopefully sometime soon I'll be starting to learn, so many I can incorporate more of it in… Anyways, enjoy the next chapter! Translations are at the end. If you come across a word that is clearly in Finnish, just use control + f on PCs and command + f on Macs and enter the word you want to know: then hit "next" until you come across the translation. :)

**Pronunciation ****Notes:** Eva Lehtinen = EHY-vuh LEH-tih-nehn, with a voiced h (meaning a breathy h sound) in the first syllable.

I wanted school to last and last—but it seemed like the fastest school day ever. It felt like only minutes passed between homeroom and the end of the day. Of course, it wasn't that I didn't trust Kenny…I just didn't want to talk about it. Still, his intentions were good, and he was my friend, so…

Kenny met up with me at my locker once the final bell had rung. As if sensing my trepidation, he put his arm around my shoulders and kept it there, tucking me close to his side. It was…surprisingly comforting. I hadn't expected it at all, but that simple touch was enough to convince me that telling Kenny was the right thing to do.

We walked in silence to his house, which only served to show me that Kenny knew how serious this was. When we walked inside, his little sister Karen, who I'd babysat a couple times when she was younger, came running out of her room and barreled into me. "Eva!" she said excitedly, thin arms wrapping around my waist. Laughing, all my tension gone, I hugged her back and ruffled her hair. "Well, somebody missed me," I chuckled, smiling down at her.

Karen was barely thirteen, and still just as shy and sweet as ever. She was a prime example of becoming a better person from a bad situation—the McCormicks' home life had never been great, but Karen and Kenny at least were great people.

The slight brunette's cheeks turned pink. "You haven't been over in almost a _year_, Eva," she protested. "Of _course_ I missed you."

I smiled at her. "I'll try and come around more. How does that sound, pieni perhonen?" I asked, using my old nickname for her. I was rewarded with a bright smile and an enthusiastic nod. Karen was still so childlike sometimes, but it was endearing rather than annoying. I knew Kenny was very fond of her, too—she just seemed to have that effect on people.

"I think that sounds perfect," said Karen, hugging me once more before retreating to her room.

Kenny was giving me the strangest look from inside his parka, so I shoved it off his head. "Hey!" he protested, giving me a mock glare.

I smirked. "I couldn't read your face," I explained, laughing and heading off down the hallway towards Kenny's room. As I approached, my nerves grew—I had to talk about it now. I'd promised I would, and I didn't break promises. _This __would__ be_ so_ much __easier __if __Mysterion__ was __here__ to__ tell__ Kenny__ for__ me,_ I thought. But he wasn't, and he couldn't. So the task fell to me.

"First," said Kenny suddenly, surprising me by grasping my hand, "why don't you take all that makeup off, hmm?"

Swallowing, I nodded, and allowed Kenny to lead me into the bathroom. I turned the faucet on and quickly splashed my face with the semi-cool water—I then took a bit of toilet paper and wiped my face down. Layers and layers of carefully applied foundation and concealer pulled away, revealing the nasty bruises beneath. My lip was swollen and discolored, the skin around my left eye was puffy and a sickening greenish yellow color, and the tail end of a third facial bruise stuck out from underneath my hair.

Kenny looked horrified. "Eva…"

I averted my eyes, not wanting to see whatever expression was in his face.

"Is that all of it?" he asked softly.

Tears brimming in my eyes, I shook my head. I slowly pulled off my hoodie and began pointing to the various places I had other bruises and lacerations—Isä had broken the skin in a couple places, and I was a little concerned that a rib or two might be cracked. A glance downward revealed that one spot had actually opened during the day, without me noticing it, and blood was soaking into the shirt I'd worn.

Kenny didn't speak for a long time, but finally he said, "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?" With a gentle urge on my shoulder, he sat me down on the edge of the bathtub, and crouched down in front of me. "Do you want me to ask Karen to help, or…do you mind me helping?" he asked.

I looked at him in shock and confusion. "N-no…Karen doesn't need to know," I insisted, terrified at the thought of sweet, innocent Karen McCormick finding out that my Isä had beaten me.

"Then you have to let me help," said Kenny, "and I don't know if you want me seeing you in just your bra."

I realized then why he'd suggested bringing Karen into this—because to clean up the blood, I'd have to take my shirt off. Kenny would be seeing me shirtless. I trusted him, but…he _was_ known for being a perv. After a few moments' indecision, I came to the conclusion that because Kenny was _asking_ if it was okay, he wasn't going to be weird about it. "It's okay, Kenny," I assured him, quickly removing my shirt before I could second-guess myself.

The cold air hit my bare torso, and I shivered. Kenny looked like he might reach out and hug me, but didn't—instead he reached underneath the sink and got out a first-aid kit. While I sat in silence, wishing I could wrap my arms around myself, Kenny set about cleaning all the blood up. He was careful and gentle, and it didn't hurt at all, surprisingly. When the little wound was all clean, he covered it with a gauze pad and taped that on with a couple strips of medical tape.

Kenny signaled for me to wait, and ran off—less than thirty seconds later, he returned with a plain white t-shirt. "Here," he said, holding it out to me with a little smile. "It's the only one I could find that was clean." At that, his cheeks turned pink—Kenny was blushing!

I couldn't help but giggle at the sight. Unflappable Kenny McCormick was _blushing_. "Kiitos," I whispered, hurrying to put the shirt on, and my hoodie over that. Once I was fully re-clothed, we moved into Kenny's bedroom. I took a seat on his bed, leaning back against the headboard and waiting for the inevitable questions.

"Who did that to you, Eva?" asked Kenny softly, perching on the edge of the bed.

I swallowed. "My Isä—my father," I choked out, shutting my eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. It hurt more to acknowledge it than it did to actually go through the abuse—which surprised me. I suppose emotional pain _is_ worse than physical pain, when it comes right down to it.

Kenny's hand moved to cover mine, his fingers slipping down in between my own and clutching my hand in his. He didn't say anything—didn't apologize for something that wasn't his fault, didn't try and make me believe something impossible at that moment…he just offered me silent comfort. Slowly, hesitantly, he scooted closer and drew me into his arms, tucking my head against his collarbone and holding me tight.

The tears finally spilled past my eyes, trickling down my cheeks and collecting on Kenny's parka. Try as I might, I couldn't hold them back, so I let them go—for his part, Kenny kept me tight in his arms, offering comfort and stability where it seemed there was none. My life felt nebulous—I didn't know how to act towards my Isä, didn't know where things stood between us anymore…

Eventually, I stopped crying, and Kenny released me, gently running his thumbs once under my eyes to wipe away the remnants of my tears.

I looked away. "I—I have to go home, I think," I whispered. "M-my parents will be wondering where I've been." Outside, it was beginning to get dark—had I really been gone so long? I mean, it got dark early in the winter, but still…

Kenny nodded, not arguing. "I'll walk you home," he offered.

"You gonna be okay in there?" asked Kenny softly, catching my sleeve as we approached my house.

Steeling myself, I nodded. "Kyllä. I think so."

After a moment, Kenny shook his head. "I don't want you in there alone, Eva," he said firmly. "Let me go in with you, okay?" It was phrased like a question, but spoken like an order—and really, it would make me feel much more comfortable. So, rather than shaking my head like I should have, I nodded, and unlocked the door.

Stepping past the threshold, I became very glad Kenny was with me—the stench of alcohol filled the air, and the living room table was littered with empty bottles.

"Äiti?" I called out. "Isä? Olen kotona…"

Kenny leaned close to my ear. "I'll be right back," he whispered. "Don't go anywhere. I've gotta go call my parents."

I nodded, though I wished he wouldn't leave. It left me all alone and vulnerable in the front room—for comfort, I moved backwards until I was pressed against the wall, fingers digging little crescents into the off-white paint.

Suddenly, there was a crash somewhere else in the house. I made as if to go see what it was, but Kenny's cautionary words echoed in my head, and I stayed put.

My Isä staggered out of the back hallway, eyes glazed over with the film of alcohol. Terror gripped me, but my throat had closed up—I couldn't call for Kenny. "I-Isä, are you…" I trailed off, something else occurring to me. "Isä, where's Äiti?" I asked, swallowing past the dryness in my mouth and throat.

He shook his head, reddened eyes closing as if in pain. "She left," he whispered.

"No," I choked, feeling ill. If Äiti was gone…Äiti could keep Isä from drinking…if she was gone, then…there was nothing standing between Isä and being a drunk.

Isä tottered closer to me. "It's _your_ fault," he hissed, going from sad to furiously angry in a heartbeat. "It's _your_ fault Elina left! How could you do such a thing? My own daughter…" He advanced on me, and I sprang out of the way just in time, abused joints creaking and screaming in protest.

"I didn't do _anything_, Isä!" I wailed, running towards the back of the house—there was a door near the back that I could use to escape. It always had a key in it, so we could use it anytime without hunting for the key.

But when I came across the door, the key was gone. I spun to see Isä coming at me, drunk and raging at me still—he was blaming me that my mother left, blaming me that their marriage had failed, blaming me for _everything_, with no sense to anything he was saying. But it stung all the same, nonsensical or otherwise.

"Leave her alone!" a familiar voice growled from somewhere behind my Isä.

My jaw dropped. "Mysterion?" I whispered. "Jumalauta…you came to save me…"

My Isä turned awkwardly, giving the masked superhero in the doorway an evil look. "Get out of here, underwear boy," he snarled, in thickly-accented English. "This is between me and my tytär."

Mysterion glared right back. "Don't lay a hand on her, Lehtinen," he said furiously, taking several steps closer. "I won't let you hurt her ever again!" Suddenly, he launched himself forward and past my Isä, making himself a barrier for me. Looking over his shoulder, Mysterion said, "Eva, get out of here. Go to Stan or Kyle's house, or even Cartman's—just go!"

"Please, don't kill him," I whispered.

After a few tense moments, the superhero nodded. "Fine," he agreed roughly. "Now, stay behind me, no matter what happens." He looked back at my Isä, who was growing unsteadier by the second. When I had crept up a little closer, Mysterion began to move to the side, always keeping his eyes on my Isä—I hurried to keep in step with him, and soon enough we had rotated all the way around until the path to the front of the house was totally clear for me.

"Now, Eva," ordered Mysterion. "Get out of here!"

I didn't need telling twice. At Mysterion's words, I turned on my heel and sprinted out of the house, not stopping until I was several blocks away and on a different street. Finally, I allowed myself to rest, leaning heavily against a lamppost and catching my breath.

But I couldn't afford to waste any more time. I pulled my phone out of my pants pocket and sent a quick text to Kenny, telling him that things had gotten bad and that I was on my way to Kyle's, before breaking into a jog and turning down the street that led to Kyle's house.

I was crying by the time I got there, the trauma of what had happened—or nearly happened—finally setting in. With barely a thought to compose myself, I rang the doorbell, and then sank to the ground, dropping my head into my hands. My Äiti was gone, nowhere to be found…and Isä was drunk again…he'd meant to harm me… My life was falling apart.

"Eva? Holy shit, Eva! What's going on?"

Suddenly, I felt someone pull me to my feet, wrap an arm about my shoulders, and urge me into the house. It was Kyle—he sat me down on the sofa and bundled me in a blanket, calling out to his mom to make some hot chocolate.

"Eva, talk to me," said Kyle worriedly, bending down in front of me. "What's wrong? What happened?"

I shuddered, shaking my head—words wouldn't come.

Kyle grimaced. "Please," he urged, squeezing my shoulders. "What happened to you, Eva?"

The doorbell rang, and with a curse, Kyle ran to get it. I dimly heard what he was saying. "Not now, Kenny, I-"

"Is Eva here?" asked Kenny, talking over Kyle's attempted protest.

"Yeah…how'd you know? Wha—hey!"

Kenny's face suddenly appeared in my vision. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" he asked almost frantically, pulling me into a tight hug. "Shit, I knew I shouldn't have left you there… I'm so sorry. Did he get to you?"

"N-no," I whispered. Even as terrified as I was, I knew Mysterion was my secret.

"Thank God," breathed Kenny, releasing me and turning to Kyle. "Her dad beat her up yesterday," he explained tersely. "And tried to do it again today."

"What the fuck?" Kyle yelled, eyes going wide. "Holy shit, Eva."

I shook my head. "I—I'm fine, Kyle," I said, though I knew it was a lie.

"The hell you are," said Kenny irritably.

Kyle shook his head, expression dark. "You aren't going back there, Eva," he assured me firmly. "You can stay here as long as you need to."

"Or at my house. Hell, Eva, any one of our friends would let you stay—except Cartman, maybe. We'll all keep you safe." Kenny squeezed my shoulder, his voice soft, almost like he was trying not to startle me or something.

I shook my head. "I couldn't—I can't impose like that on you guys."

"You wouldn't be imposing," argued Kenny. "We just want you to be safe, Eva. That's all. And you aren't safe at home, you know that."

"But I-"

"But _nothing_," Kyle insisted stubbornly. "We're here for you."

In the end, it was decided that I would be switching between Kenny, Stan, and Kyle's houses—their parents all agreed to the situation, and my Isä was probably too drunk to care right now, so the only thing left was to get my things. The guys' parents didn't want them going over to my house, even to help me—mostly Mrs. Marsh and Mrs. Broflovski—so I would just have to wait until the next day, when their husbands could make the trip over with me.

That night, I stayed at Kyle's house—as did Stan and Kenny. It was clear that they didn't want me to feel unsafe, and were doing everything in their power to ensure that. I found the whole thing incredibly sweet.

Yet even with three of my closest—if not my closest—friends right there with me, I found it almost impossible to sleep. I tossed and turned, trying desperately to shut my mind off, but every time I closed my eyes I saw the awful image of my father hitting me. It kept haunting me until, finally, I got up from Kyle's bed—which he had gallantly given up to me, despite my protests—and went downstairs. Turning the TV on and setting the volume low, I curled up under a blanket and tried just to distract myself, as it was clear I wasn't getting any sleep that night.

Maybe half an hour later, I heard the floor creak behind me as someone walked into the living room. Thinking it was one of the guys, come to check on me, I didn't turn around, or look away from the TV. I wasn't exactly in a talking mood, and I hoped whoever it was would understand that. I just wanted distraction from the horrible thoughts plaguing my mind.

"I'm glad you got out of your parents' house, Eva," said a soft yet gravelly voice.

I jumped, but didn't say anything—even though my heart rate had suddenly picked up. It was Mysterion—I didn't know how he'd gotten into Kyle's house, but his presence was comforting. As I wanted to stay silent, I murmured, "Me too," hoping my quietness would hint at that.

Coming to sit next to me on the sofa, Mysterion nodded, the spring-mounted question mark atop his head bouncing with the motion. "I wanted to let you know—I was eavesdropping earlier, and I overheard the plan for getting your belongings out of your house." The masked superhero took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly as I tensed. "I'll be there, though you won't see me—just in case something goes wrong."

"Thanks," I whispered. It meant a lot, but I had no idea how to put it into words in English. Helvetti, I doubted I could even say it all in my native language—to know someone was looking out for me, taking time out of _their_ life to make sure I was okay was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

I expected Mysterion to leave then, but he didn't—he stayed there, holding my hand comfortingly and letting me have the silence I wanted. Somewhere along the line I felt myself fall over, exhausted and leaning my head against Mysterion's shoulder. As I drifted off, I thought I might've seen him smile—but I dismissed it as a figment of my imagination.

To my surprise, I woke up in my bed the next morning—Mysterion must've carried me to bed. The thought made me blush deeply, and I was glad the guys weren't up to see that. They would probably tease me about it.

The sun was streaming in through Kyle's bedroom window, and I suddenly realized something—it was _far_ too bright to be 7AM. Panicked, I looked at Kyle's clock, which assuaged my fears: it was 11:36.

"Don't worry about school, Eva," said Mrs. Broflovski from the doorway—when had she gotten here? "I called the four of you in sick. Last night was stressful, and I thought you could all use the sleep. Besides, we can get your things earlier that way." Her voice was quiet, so as not to wake the guys, and very kind.

Successfully reassured, I nodded, and snuggled back down into the pillows. They smelt faintly of Kyle, and for some odd reason I found the familiarity comforting—it helped me get back to sleep.

I woke up a second time to Kenny gently shaking me. His parka was on, but unzipped and hanging loosely off his shoulders. Yawning, I sat up and summoned up a smile for him. "Morning, Kenny," I mumbled, past another yawn.

Kenny smirked. "Good afternoon is more like it," he laughed, nodding at the clock. "It's two in the afternoon, Eva!"

"Wow, really?" I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Guess I needed the rest."

"You probably did," Kenny agreed. "Did you sleep okay?"

I nodded, sliding my legs out of the covers and then shivering at the onslaught of cold air. "Kyllä—ugh, it's freezing out here." I wrapped my arms around myself, and then blushed when Kenny removed his parka and draped it across my shoulders. "Kenny, I couldn't, you'll freeze then," I argued, trying to hand it back to him.

Kenny just shook his head, stepping out of reach and smiling. "I'm used to being cold inside," he said lightly. "No heat in my house." He said it as a passing comment, but it made my heart ache for him and his situation. Kenny deserved better, he really did.

"Kenny-"

"It's fine," he interrupted, ruffling my hair fondly before tugging the hood of his parka up over my head. It fell over my eyes, and I began to giggle—Kenny laughed too, and pushed it back. "There," he said, smiling. "Now I can see your pretty face again."

My cheeks went pink. "You think I'm—pretty?" I asked, averting my eyes.

Kenny tapped my nose. "I think you're beautiful," he corrected, gently lifting my head with two fingers under my chin.

At his words, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks—I probably looked like a Maraschino cherry! But…Kenny actually thought I was _beautiful_? Since when did he even say things like that? "Kenny…that's not some dumb line to make me sleep with you, is it?" I hedged. "Because I'm not having sex with you."

I expected him to make some sort of pervy joke out of that last bit—that's why I said it, after all—but instead he just brushed some hair out of my face and smiled. "It's not," he assured me.

Weird. Kenny being serious? What in helvetti was going on here?

But then Kenny smirked and added, "And you'll have sex with me someday. You know you can't resist me."

I rolled my eyes. "In your dreams!" I laughed, realizing quickly that it was just Kenny being his usual self. "You're so naurettava, Kenny," I told him.

Kenny ruffled my hair, sending the light blonde strands cascading all over my face. "I have no idea what you just said," he snickered, "but I'm gonna take it as a compliment anyway." He was beaming hugely, all casual confidence and suaveness. There was something to be said about how much better his casual attitude made me feel—I didn't have to think about all the bad things.

At that moment, Kyle stuck his head in. "Hey, Eva…my dad said you guys can go get your stuff whenever you're ready."

I swallowed, but nodded all the same. "Okei. Kiitos. I'll…I'll be down in a second."

Kyle nodded and slipped out, and Kenny turned to me. "Do you want me to leave you alone for a minute?" he asked, furrowing his brow in clear concern.

"Kyllä…if that's okay…"

Kenny smiled and hugged me briefly, before leaving the room. Once he was gone, I sank down onto Kyle's bed and dropped my head into my hands. This was all completely hullu. I could hardly tell what was real and what was just my imagination…surely this was all some kind of horrible nightmare…and I'd wake up in the morning shaken but unharmed…

But it wasn't a nightmare, and I wasn't going to wake up. I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and walked out of Kyle's bedroom with my head held high.

It was time to face todellisuus.

**Translations:**

-pieni perhonen = little butterfly

-Isä = father, dad

-kiitos = thanks

-kyllä = yes

-Äiti = mother, mom

-Olen kotona = I'm home

-jumalauta = oh my God

-tytär = daughter

-helvetti = hell

-naurettava = ridiculous

-okei = okay (pronounced the same as well)

-hullu = crazy

-todellisuus = reality


End file.
